Art After 5 & Counterpoint Extras
by sleepyvalentina
Summary: Random moments from the Art After 5 universe. Deleted scenes and oneshots written for the Fandom Gives Back auction.
1. Chapter 1

**Happy birthday, Lisa.**

**I don't own Twilight. **

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Counterpoint outtake, Chapter 11

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The interrogation began before I was even fully awake. I stumbled into the kitchen Tuesday morning and had barely wrapped my fingers around the handle of the coffee pot when my mother's greeting broke through my grogginess.

"Good morning," she called from the island. "I'm getting things ready for this weekend. Will Bella be joining us?"

"Yes. She's riding down with me and staying all weekend."

"Good." My mother continued to type on her Blackberry as she spoke. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her a bit better."

I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined my mom at the island. "Just so you know, this is my first cup. I'm not awake enough to accurately discern sarcasm."

"I wasn't being sarcastic." My mother put down her Blackberry and looked at me. "This may seem hard for you to believe, but I'm not against Bella. I'm just not sure I understand her. For what it's worth, I'd like to. So, back to this weekend. Is she allergic to any foods?"

"I'm heading to her house in a bit. I'll find out and text you."

"Great. Which room do you think she'd prefer?"

Mine.

Well, that would be my preference. I wondered if Bella would be weirded out by sleeping with me in my parents' house.

"I was kind of hoping she'd be with me."

"That's completely inappropriate, and you know it."

"Mom, we've slept in the same bed before. It's not a big deal. My virtue is still intact."

"This isn't about sex, Edward. Don't insult my intelligence. If two people really want to be intimate, they'll find a way."

"Then what is it about?"

She took a sip of her coffee. "Respect, for one. You know, traditionally unmarried couples are always placed in separate sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, their hosts pretend to ignore late night hallway traffic."

"That's a waste of energy."

"So is writing a personal response to an invitation when a reply card was provided, but we still do it because it's polite." She sighed. "What is this really about?"

"I just want to spend time with her."

"And that's all it is?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Fine, then. She can stay with you."

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Art After 5 Outtake Chapter 48

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I stepped out of his way and handed him the knife and meat fork. "You're good with him."

Edward laughed began carving the turkey. "I should be. I'm their back up to their back up babysitter."

I leaned against the refrigerator laughing.

"What?" he said.

"That's like being Speaker of the House. Sure, it's a nice ego boost to say you're third in line for the Presidency, but you'll never actually have the stress of sitting in the Oval Office."

Edward held up the meat fork mocking a menacing gesture. "I'll have you know I have watched David on multiple occasions, when Rose was stuck in the office unexpectedly and Emmett had previous school commitments."

"How very domestic of you," I teased. "This morning you wore my ruffled apron. Now you're telling me you've worked as a nanny. If I didn't know any better, I would seriously question your masculinity."

He put the knife and fork down and pulled me against him, crashing his lips against mine. He kiss was passionate and thorough, and ended just as suddenly as it had started. I leaned against the kitchen table, catching my breath, as Edward went back to carving the turkey completely unfazed.

"Was that manly enough for you?" he joked.

"I don't think I'm convinced yet of your prowess. Could you do that again, please?"

"I'd love to, but then we'd never get food on the table."

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**  
**

**And, a preview of a [WAY] ahead chapter of Counterpoint.**

**This takes place in March of Edward's freshmen year of college. **

**(this space is for people who don't like teasers to skip here)**

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"You don't seem too enthusiastic about being here."

"Is it that obvious?"

She looked disappointed.

"I'm sorry. I'm being kind of an ass. It has nothing to do with you. It's not that I don't want to be with you right now. I don't want to be with anyone. Mike is forcing the issue because I've been so antisocial lately, and it's starting to annoy him. Well, that or he just wants the room to himself so he can get laid."

She raised an eyebrow. "The path of least resistance leads to my dorm room?"

"Only in the sense that Mike wanted me out of ours for a while, and Irina said you wouldn't mind."

"I don't mind, though if you truly want to be alone you could just as easily write your paper at Firestone. Mike and Irina would still get to be alone. You'd get your work done without being forced into socializing. Everyone wins." She shrugged and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

I nodded my head toward the window. "Would you want to go out in that?"

A rumble of thunder punctuated my question.

"Not if I could avoid it," she admitted.

"There you go."

She sighed and picked up her laptop.

"See you later, Edward. Lock the door on your way out."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out. Hang out as long as you'd like. Look, I understand you're here largely under duress, but you need to realize I don't make a habit of spending time with people who clearly have no interest in spending time me. It's fine, and I'm not offended. I'm not, however, a glutton for punishment. Help yourself to soda and beer if you want, and I'll see you around."

I felt like a complete asshole.

"Kate, please stay."

She turned around.

"I'm sorry. I just..." I sighed. "I'm not usually this much of a jerk. I'm not sure what's wrong with me. Actually, I know exactly what's wrong with me, but I don't want to bore you with my sob story about how the first woman I ever loved callously dumped me on a holiday. I just want you to know that my bad attitude has nothing whatsoever to do with you. You seem very nice and genuine, and I can't blame you for wanting to get the fuck away from me just now." I hung my head low, and covered my face with my hands. "God, how many times have I wished I could get the fuck away from me lately."

She put her laptop down on her desk and sat down on the couch next to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to even think about it."

"When I was eight, I had a crush on one of the boys in the neighborhood. I wanted to get his attention and prove that I could keep up with him. There was a enormous spruce tree that he liked to climb, and one day I decided to follow him to the top. I didn't let fact I was wearing a dress stop me. Needless to say, the shoes little girls wear on Sundays are not meant for climbing. I got halfway up the tree when I lost my footing and fell, breaking both my leg and my wrist."

"That had to suck."

"It did. I guess my point is, everyone has fallen out of the tree at some point. You brush yourself off and get your friends to write silly messages on your bulky plaster casts. You give yourself some time. Eventually, you climb the tree again. You're slightly wary of course, but you've learned a few things."

"And if you decide you're done climbing?"

"Was it that awful?"

I said nothing, and sunk further into my seat.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

She stood up and walked over to her closet.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Taking your mind off it."

"I don't want to smoke."

"Good," she said, pulling something off the shelf. "I never touch the stuff, personally."

I felt like an idiot for suggesting she did when I saw what she was holding.

"Scrabble?" I asked in disbelief.

"Drinking Scrabble," she clarified. "If either of us get a bingo, the other does a shot. You game?"

It was completely asinine, and incredibly appealing.

I couldn't refuse.


	2. Art After 5 Chapter 54 outtake

I don't own Twilight.

This takes place after Chapter 54 of Art After 5.

It hasn't been beta'd.

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There was silence on the other end, and for a second I thought the call dropped. When he continued speaking, his voice had lost its edge.

"I was referring to being left with a child to raise on your own and no clue how to do so," he explained.

"Oh."

"I'm not the bitter person you think I am, and I haven't been alone all these years. I just chose to keep my private life away from you. Had any of my relationships become serious, I may have brought that person home. Then again, I may not have. I didn't think it was fair to expose you to a revolving door of partners while you were too young to understand. It's a small town. People talk."

Partners? Gossip?

It could only mean one thing, and he couldn't be.

Could he?

"People will talk about you and this...what was him name?"

"Edward," I answered. "And I don't care what anyone says about us. I'm only telling you because I know that if I didn't when you finally did find out you'd think I'd kept it to myself out of shame."

"Haven't you?"

"No, Dad. I just didn't see the need to involve you until I was sure."

"Sure of what, Bella?"

I took a deep breath and looked eyes with Edward.

"That it would last. Look, I know it seems kind of strange to you now, but it won't when you meet him. Besides, when I'm forty and he's thirty-two, no one will even notice..."

"We'll see if it lasts that long. I've gotta run, Bells, thanks for the update."

"I love y-"

The line was dead before I finished.

I turned to Edward, dumbfounded.

"Was that as awkward as it seemed?"

I put my iPhone on the coffee table and snuggled into Edward, wiping my eyes on my wrist.

"You don't know the half of it."

"Does he always discount you like that?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. We don't have a lot of meaningful conversations. Besides, how seriously he takes me is the least of my concerns. I think my dad may have just come out to me."

"What? As in come out come out?"

"Oh yes," I sighed. "He claimed he's been dating all these years and didn't bring anyone home because of me."

"Did he mention men?"

"No, but he didn't mention women, either. He was completely gender non-specific."

Edward began to laugh. "He played the pronoun game. Sounds like someone else I know. I guess I don't have to wonder from which parent you inherited your amazing gift for selective omission."

I rolled my eyes.

"This is serious," I whined. "I just found out my dad likes cock."

Edward shook his head in mock amazement. "And to think all these years you thought you had nothing in common with the man."

I smacked him on the shoulder. "We're talking about my father. Don't be gross."

"I guess you never had to deal with the parental sex thing."

"And you have?"

He laughed. "Are you kidding? My parents acted like honeymooners even after twenty years of marriage. If they were in the same room, they kissing or touching or something. I mean, it was kind of weird when I could hear them..."

"Oh my god," I wailed. "Stop. Just stop."

"Sorry. Like I said, I'm used to it. Seriously, though. You don't know for sure that your father's gay."

"True, though you have to admit his word choice was suspect."

"It was. I think the point though is that he hasn't been alone all this time."

"I know that."

"Did you not just tell him my age was irrelevant? That love transcends societal conventions?"

"I wasn't nearly as eloquent as you just were, but that was the gist of it."

"Then why do you care who he dates as long as he's happy?"

I sighed.

"I don't. I'm just...well...I'm surprised. I've spent twenty-six years judging him for not taking the time to get to know me. Meanwhile, I never tried to know him. I let my perceptions become my reality."

Edward shrugged. "That's what children do."

"Yes, but I'm no longer a child. Not even close. I never attempted to form an adult relationship with him."

"It's not too late, you know."

"I know."

I decided I'd ask Tanya how she thought I should go about forging an adult relationship with my father. Meanwhile, I knew I should come clean with Edward. I sorted through allegories in my mind and took a deep breath.

"There used to be this talk show on TV in the early afternoon that I'd watch sometimes when I was off from teaching. Halfway through every episode, a guest would make a phone call he or she had been dreading on the air. They referred to it as the Uncomfortable Phone Call and had this silly jingle that went with it. It was simultaneously ridiculous and ironic. Have you seen the show I'm talking about?"

Edward shook his head. "No, but thank you for reminding me why I don't watch television. Average Americans find this humorous?"

"You're such an elitist." I tapped him on the shoulder jokingly. "Most of the time, it was funny - just a mildly awkward bit of fluff. 'I borrowed your dress without asking, ruined it and lied to you about it,' or 'Your breath stinks, and that's why you can't get laid.' Once in a while, they were truly heartbreaking. A girl calling her best friend to tell her she was going into rehab or a daughter letting her mother know she failed out of school."

"People made phone calls that personal in front an audience?"

"Yes, and I never understood why a person would feel compelled to do so until now."

Edward looked at me through narrowed eyes. "You think calling your father would have been less painful had you done so on national television?"

"Oh, god, no. He would have disowned me, and I would have deserved it. But calling him was definitely easier with you here."

"It's called moral support, Bella. It's a wonderful thing to have."

"True, though that's not what I'm talking about. I needed to tell him, Edward. It wasn't fair to either of you. I knew you'd be crushed if I pussied out, and I couldn't do that to you. Your presence sort of forced me to follow through with it."

"You mean if I hadn't been sitting beside you, you wouldn't have told him about us?"

I considered his question for several seconds. When I finally did speak, my voice was barely audible. "I like to think that I would have."

"But you can't say for sure."

"Well, no."

He sighed and averted his gaze.

"Hey," I said, nudging his face back up to mine. "It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and my dysfunctional familial relationships. I know I haven't always been fair to you..."

"I would have understood if you waited. I know it's different for you than it is for me, that you have more things at stake. I fully understand you expected your father to think the worst of you. If our roles were reversed, I may be tempted to postpone for similar reasons."


	3. AA5 Chapter 36 outtake Fandom Gives Back

I don't own Twilight.

This is the text of chapters 35 and 36 of Art After 5, including a oneshot was written for mensrea, as part of the Fandom Gives Back auction. The original passage from Chapter 36 of _Art After 5 is as_ follows--

_After the hour was finished, I went home and zoned out. Days turned into weeks, but there was nothing remarkable about them. Each morning I got dressed, and each evening I went to bed. Sometimes I slept. I worked during the week and saw Jasper and Alice on Friday night at McGillin's. Men took interest in me. I nearly went home with one, but when his hand brushed my skin I didn't feel the rush I'd gotten previously from random conquests, nor did I feel the electricity I'd experienced when Edward touched me. I felt nothing. I realized that I could fuck him, and though doing so would temporarily plug my hole, it would never fill my void. I said goodbye to him and returned to Alice and Jasper._

* * *

_To Natalie from your sister, _

_Thank you for being her partner in crime. _

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**Art After 5**

**Chapters 35-36**

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_**Chapter Thirty-Five**_

_**Sudden Rainstorm**_

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The rest of Thanksgiving dinner passed uneventfully. Jack and Kitty weren't at all put off by Edward's declaration of gratitude for me. This surprised me, though I wasn't sure what I was expecting. I commented on this to Edward as we settled into my sofa to watch It's a Wonderful Life, which he insisted was a necessary holiday ritual.

"You have some bizarre traditions, Edward. First, I was forced to pray. Then, you made me make a statement about something for which I was thankful. Now, I'm being forced to watch Jimmy Stewart movies."

"Don't mock Jimmy Stewart. He's a Princeton alumnus."

"I should have known." I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone prays on Thanksgiving, Bella. It's kind of the purpose of the holiday. Furthermore, when it was your turn, you said you were grateful for capless retractable Sharpies."

"They do make my job easier."

He shook his head. "You missed the entire point."

"No, I fully understood the point of the exercise. You tell me what I was supposed to say. Did you expect me to admit to being grateful that I own a home when so many others are losing theirs? If I had been honest, your grandfather would have really thought you were slumming by dating me. Meanwhile, you more or less declared your love for me in front of your entire family, and though I truly appreciate the sentiment behind your words, I had no idea that your grandparents would be so okay with it. I was waiting for the fallout and felt like I needed to lighten the mood."

"I told you that my grandparents were accepting of our relationship when I invited you to dinner."

I sighed. "That you did, but I was expecting drama. I don't know. Maybe because it was a holiday."

"Are holidays in your family frequently rife with drama?"

I laughed humorlessly. "You might say that."

"How did that work exactly? There were only two of you, right?"

"Yes, but my mother left my father on Thanksgiving. She said she was running out for butter and never came back. So says the legend, anyway. I don't remember it. I was six weeks old."

"That must have been so awful for your father. I can't imagine..." He pulled me against him.

"It was rough on my dad. My mother was young and flighty, but my father did love her. He never recovered emotionally from her leaving us. He hasn't dated since. I don't think he trusts his own judgment with relationships. He had no idea she'd been so unhappy, and had a very hard time believing she'd actually left. He was sure she'd been abducted or got into an accident. My father left me with our next door neighbor, Sue, and went out to look for her. I was six weeks old and wouldn't stop screaming. Sue said she was certain I would starve because I'd never had to feed from a bottle until that point and I kept refusing them. She was about to bring me to the ER when I finally gave in and ate. I guess I realized a bottle from a stranger was better than nothing."

He tightened his arms around me. "That must have been terrible for you."

"It wasn't a big deal. I can't even remember it, I just know what Sue told me. Anyway, holidays never brought out the best in my dad. It amazes me to think that they aren't like that for everyone."

"Every family has the occasional drama-filled holiday, Bella. There was one Christmas when we ran out of Grey Goose..."

I couldn't contain my laughter.

"Are you mocking my pain? Kitty is not a happy camper when she's sober."

"She could have switched to something else..."

"Kitty never drinks anything else. The following year at Thanksgiving when it was her turn to say one thing for which she was thankful, she went off on a twenty minute rant about how grateful she was that many liquor stores were now open on holidays."

"So when you expressed your gratitude for me, it was actually not the strangest Cullen holiday moment."

He laughed. "Not by a long shot. Besides, there's nothing wrong with being thankful for love. I'm incredibly lucky, and I know it. Speaking of being lucky, I wanted to run something by you before I forget. So the eating club I'll probably join next year throws a few big parties each semester. They try to bring in some pretty big name bands. Rumor has it Vampire Weekend is playing next weekend."

"That's amazing. I can't imagine going to a school that actually brings in decent rock acts. We usually had complete unknowns, and they always sucked. I would totally understand if you wanted to stay on campus for it. I'll miss you, but I'll get over it."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd come with me."

"How does that work?" I asked.

He shrugged. "People bring guests all the time."

"No, I mean the eating club thing. Will there be underage drinking there?"

"Of course, there will be underage drinking, Bella. It's a college campus."

"I don't mean in dorm rooms beforehand. Where I went to school, if there was a big party, the college hired staff who actually carded and issued wrist bands to those who were of age. You couldn't get served without one."

"I'm not sure what the exact protocol is, but I doubt the drinking age will be strictly enforced. It's at a club, and not being organized by the University. Why? Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?"

"As if you wouldn't put out sober." I laughed. "No, I just can't be at a party with condoned underage drinking, Edward. If it gets busted, I could lose my teaching license. It's too risky. You go and have fun. You can tell me all about it afterward. They're one of my favorite bands. I bet they're awesome live."

He pulled away from me.

"I distinctly recall you telling me that you would be happy to escort me to any and all college functions for which I would desire an escort."

"This is different; alcohol is involved."

"There will always be alcohol involved. Are you saying you won't attend any event at which there may be underage drinking?"

"I suppose it would depend on the circumstances, but I can't condone breaking the law."

"Cut the shit, Bella. This has nothing whatsoever to do with illegal activity. You've slept in my bed while Mike and Tyler did bong hits ten feet away. This has to do with us. You're still not okay with my age."

"Wait, how are you getting that from my concern about losing my job? A concern which, I might add, everyone but you would consider very legitimate."

"You only spend time with me behind closed doors, even when there is no chance of running into anyone you know from school."

"That's not true. We were together at Alice's wedding. That was pretty public."

"We were, but you didn't invite me to be your escort. Alice invited me because of her relationship with my mother. I come to see you every weekend, but you've visited me exactly two times in the past three months."

I sighed. "I just don't feel comfortable on what is predominantly an under-graduate campus. I'm too old for that scene. It was fun for me while it lasted, but that part of my life is over. I'm glad you're enjoying college and finding your place. You deserve all that. I don't want to hold you back."

"You don't hold me back." He clenched his jaw with frustration.

"Then go, have fun, be seventeen. It's a wonderful time of life, Edward. Enjoy it. And when you want to come home, I'll be keeping the bed warm for you."

"I just don't see the point of doing any of that unless you're with me. How am I supposed to enjoy myself knowing you're sitting home bored?"

"I can't be with you while you break the law. I can't. Edward, not all of us have the luxury of playing at our careers. Some of us actually need them to sustain ourselves. I need my job. I can't pay my mortgage without it."

"You always go back to your fear of losing your job whenever I ask you to give a little more of yourself emotionally, but it's never really been about your job. You're ashamed of me."

"I've never been ashamed of you."

I was, however, ashamed of me.

"Maybe not of who I am as an individual, but certainly of my age. Bella, I understand your fear of losing your job. That's valid. But there's more to this than that. You won't even come see me on campus when alcohol isn't involved."

I hated the anguish in his voice, and I wanted to make it better. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I'd go anywhere with him, that I'd make it my Facebook status and fuck the repercussions. I couldn't do that. I had too much to lose.

So did Edward. As long as we were together, he'd stay with me and continue coming home each and every weekend. He wouldn't experience college. He wouldn't experience anything but me--in all my broken, fucked up, and emotionally unstable glory. I couldn't do that to him. I loved him too much.

My voice came out of nowhere, and I didn't recognize myself as I spoke.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Edward. I thought I could get past it. I wanted to more than anything, but I just...can't. This isn't working for me."

"I'll transfer to Penn. We can live together here or in the city. It doesn't matter to me. I don't need to live on campus, Bella. I just need you."

There was the problem. He was willing to give up everything for me, and I wasn't worth it.

"Edward, no. You don't get it. It's not working, we're not working. I think it's best we have a clean break."

I stared down into my lap. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want to see his anguish, nor did I want him to see mine. He would never believe this was real if he did....

I stood up and started gathering his things. His razor, his toothbrush, his clothing - I made sure I had everything. It all fit neatly into his overnight bag, which I brought into the sitting room and placed at his feet.

"What's this?" he said.

"It should be everything. I never kept anything of mine at your parents' home or in Princeton so there should be no need to prolong this. We won't have to see each other again."

"So this is it? Just like that?" I couldn't look at him, but I knew he was crying. His voice broke twice as he spoke.

"Yes." I stared out the window.

"You said you loved me."

"I loved being with you, and the sex was amazing. But love?" I shrugged. "I'm not capable of love, Edward. I thought you knew that."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Then look at me, and say it."

I couldn't do it. He stood up and grabbed my upper arms, turning me to face him. I looked at his face. His cheeks were wet and his eyes were red.

I did this to him, but it wasn't the first time. I'd made him cry before, and I would do so again and again unless he was free of me.

"I don't want you, Edward."

He stepped away from me, his eyes downcast. He picked up his bag and walked down the steps toward my front door. I followed him, wanting to stop him even though it would be selfish of me.

He stopped after opening the door.

"I'll always want you, Bella." His sobs caused his voice to break. "I'll never stop loving you."

The sound of the antique doorknob latching chilled me with its finality. Somehow, in two minutes, I'd managed to undo the past five months.

I heard his car pull out of my driveway and panicked; he was in no emotional state to drive. I then realized exactly what I'd done.

I'd broken him to save him.

It was both the most selfish and selfless thing I'd ever done in my pathetic excuse for a life. Edward and I were over. I'd never again hear his voice or his laugh. I'd never touch his hair or see his eyes. Like so many others, he would cease to exist for me except in my own mind.

The realization hit me with such force that I fell to the floor in actual physical pain. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to bleed in gut-wrenching agony, something, anything, to prove to myself that I was still alive.

Nothing came.

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Six**_

_**Prometheus Bound (Rubens)**_

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I don't know how long I lay there on the floor before I got up. I only know that, eventually, I did get up. I undressed and showered and got into bed. I didn't sleep; I couldn't. My sheets still smelled like him. I looked over at the clock. Three hours had passed since he left. It felt like forever. I would never make it through the rest of my life without Edward if I couldn't even make it through the first night.

The rest of my life without Edward.

I did this. I ended us. I didn't doubt it was the right thing to do, but that didn't make it easier.

At some point during the night, Alice showed up. She didn't say anything. She just crept up the steps and silently got into bed with me. We sat there, staring off into space, until the mourning dove began to coo.

"You should put some clothes on, Bella."

I looked down at myself. I hadn't realized I was naked. It also occurred to me that although Alice was here, I had not called her.

"Who told you?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" She got up and walked over to my dresser. She pulled out a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt. "Put these on."

"Why? So you can drag me shopping? A new pair of shoes isn't going to make me feel better."

"No." She sighed. "I wouldn't dream of trivializing this like that, but I'm not going to let you wallow in bed naked."

I got out of bed and started getting dressed. "Is this where you say you told me so?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't."

"Are you thinking it?"

She paused before speaking. "No."

I didn't want to deal with Alice right now. I went down to the kitchen and started making coffee. She followed me, lingering in the archway leading from the kitchen to the dining room. Her mere presence was making me twitch.

"How the hell did you get in here, anyway?" I slammed the coffee can on the counter.

"You left your door unlocked. Bella, you really should be more careful. This may not be Center City, but it sure as hell isn't Wayne County, Ohio. We're not in college anymore. You have to lock your door." She sighed. "So, what are you going to do?"

"What I've always done. Work. Cook. Exist."

"You can't avoid dealing with this forever..."

"Forever! My god, how funny! Forever." I started laughing hysterically. "For ever and ever and ever." I stopped laughing and turned to face Alice. "Well, well, let's get on with it."

"Okay, I'm not sure what to do here. You're lashing out at me, which I understand and kind of deserve. You're saying you're fine, but you're quoting Sartre. I seem to be making things worse, yet I'm afraid to leave you alone."

"I'm not going to hurt myself, Alice."

"Don't you see? You already have."

"I did the right thing. I can handle pain. I'm used to it. Edward isn't. It's better this way. He hadn't missed out on too much yet. He can experience youth and college without me hindering him. He can fall in love again, with someone who is worthy of him, someone who is whole. You said it yourself. I was with him for all the wrong reasons."

"I did say that, and I'm sorry. It was narrow-minded and horribly wrong of me. I would give anything to take it back."

"You say that, but you distanced yourself from me. Even after your wedding, I rarely heard from you. This was the first time you've bothered to cross the Ben since you found out I was dating Edward."

"That's not true. I came to apologize the very next day. If you recall, you wouldn't let me. That wasn't the only time. There were several others. I took the train into Collingswood and walked around town, trying to find the nerve to knock on your door, hoping you'd hear me out. I always wound up back on the westbound Speedline, crying like a pussy."

"And after your wedding?"

"I knew you hadn't forgiven me entirely, and I was giving you space."

"Where is all this space now, Alice? Did you not just let yourself into my house last night without an invitation?"

"I knew you needed me."

The tears finally came. I fell to the floor, wailing. Alice sat down in front of me and pulled me into her arms.

"Shh, Bella." She stroked my hair. "It's going to be okay."

"He's gone. I told him I didn't love him."

"I know."

"I lied, Alice."

"I know that, too. Why did you do it?"

"I just...love him too much to tie him down...not to me. And if he left...if he left and I didn't know it was coming, I think it would break me."

She rocked me in her lap. "It's all right. It will all be okay."

I cried in her arms until there was nothing left.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Go to work. Go to therapy. Stay busy. Get through each day."

"I didn't know you were in therapy."

"It's recent. I only started last month. I don't think it's helping..."

"It will help." She interrupted me. "You'll see. Just not right away, and not always in ways which you can see. Jazz will tell you."

"Jasper's in therapy?"

"No, he isn't. I am. I've been going for about three years now. I can't see the difference in myself, but he claims he can see it in me."

I was in shock. "I had no idea."

She shrugged.

I was still so pissed at her, but she was the only real family I had.

"Thank you, Alice, for being here for me."

She hugged me more tightly. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Alice called Rose that afternoon and they both spent the rest of the weekend at my house with me. If Rose didn't approve of my decision, she kept this to herself. When Monday morning came, I got dressed and went to work, just as I'd always done.

I saw Edward everywhere. It was so naïve of me to assume that if I'd packed up all of his things, there would be no reminders of him. The memories were inescapable.

On Wednesday, I went to my session with Tanya. I told her I'd ended my relationship with Edward, but that I didn't want to discuss it. She billed my insurance company for way too much money to take no for an answer.

"It's not important," I insisted.

"I think it's extremely important. You broke up with your boyfriend, whom you claim to still love very much, on Thanksgiving, the same day on which your mother abandoned you as a baby."

I shrugged. "Holidays suck."

"You don't think that's a coincidence? That on some level, you pushed him away and ended the relationship on your terms rather than risk the alternative?"

"Which alternative would that be?"

"That he would abandon you. You'd rather leave him than live with the fear he could leave you."

I pulled my ponytail out of my hair in frustration. "He would leave me eventually, after missing experiences he'll never get back. Don't you see that?"

"You don't know that," she said.

"I do know that."

"How?"

"Because why would anyone, let alone someone like him, ever want to be with someone like me? My own mother couldn't stand being around me. She wished she'd never had me. She told me that once. So much for a mother's love being unconditional."

"Just because a woman gives birth doesn't make her a mother."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Marlo Thomas."

"You can't blame yourself for her actions."

"How can I not?"

"Your mother did a terrible thing, there's no doubt. You can't change it, but the longer you allow it to affect you the more power you're giving her. You're giving her power over your happiness. Does she deserve that?"

Huh.

"No."

"There you go. There are two things I'd like you to do this week. Write a letter to your mother. Tell her how you feel. You don't have to send it, but putting the words down on paper can be cathartic. When you've done that, I want you to make a list of the things you like about yourself. You can list whatever you like, but they should be aspects of who you are, not things you can do."

I snorted. "It's going to be a very short list."

"That's exactly why doing this is so important." She stretched out her right hand while keeping her pen between her long fingers. They were slender and elegant, like Edward's. "You're going to get through this, Bella."

"I've a good notion of what's coming to me. I'm facing the situation, facing it," I quoted.

"Really?" She put down her pen, obviously getting the reference. "If you're so courageous in the face of Hell, then why are you running?"

After the hour was finished, I went home and zoned out. Days turned into weeks, but there was nothing remarkable about them. Each morning I got dressed, and each evening I went to bed. Sometimes I slept. I worked during the week and saw Jasper and Alice on Friday night at McGillin's. There was comfort in routine.

At least, that's what Alice claimed when I tried to stay home from karaoke night. This part of my life _should_ have been safe; Edward was never present for this ritual. I should be able to sit at a table at McGillin's and not feel as though his absence somehow eclipsed Alice's presence. Yet, reasons I didn't fully understand, I couldn't.

Alice was rambling about something, but I couldn't bring myself to pay attention. My eyes remained focused on the John Wanamaker sign on the wall behind her. It was a bizarre object for me to fixate on. By the time I moved to Philadelphia, Wanamaker's was long gone; the grand storefront on Market Street it used to occupy housed a Macy's. Esme once told me her mother worked at Wanamaker's for decades and was forced into early retirement when independently owned department stores became a thing of the past. I'd meant to ask Esme what her mother had done for them, where she lived now, and why Esme didn't see her that much, but I didn't. Answering questions about my own family was painful for me, and on the off-chance it would be for her, I didn't want to be inconsiderate. In retrospect, I probably seemed uncaring for not asking.

My eyes searched the wall for something else—anything—that didn't remind me of Edward. A blue and red World Series flag hung not far from the Wanamaker's sign. Edward and Carlisle went to Game 5 of the 2008 World Series—both nights of it. Edward said play should have been suspended in the second inning, that the field was icy and the players couldn't get a good hold on the ball, that Selig's decision to let them play as long as he did was criminal and motivated entirely by avarice and not by a desire to maintain the integrity of the World Series as he'd alleged.

This was unbelievable. I'd never set foot inside McGillin's with Edward, but it was as if he claimed this part of my life, too. Because he loved the Phillies and his grandmother had worked at Wanamaker's. I'd never be able to see that sign—or the building on Market Street that is now a Macy's—without thinking of him. There had to somewhere I could go in the fourth largest city in the United States that didn't make me think of Edward, that didn't make me feel empty.

"Bella?" Alice raised her voice slightly, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you like the Christmas decorations they put up?"

"I hadn't noticed." I looked around again. Sure enough, thousands of white lights accented with red bows and pine garland accented the already overloaded walls. I wondered what Edward was doing for Christmas...

"Are you going home at all during the holidays?"

"No. I know I mentioned it was a possibility now that..." I could do it. I could say his name without my voice breaking. "...Edward is out of the picture, but I think dealing with my father would make things worse. Besides, my home is here now."

As long as I avoided McGillin's, Macy's, the beach, the Art Museum, the Academy of Music, my job...

"You're welcome at Jazz's parents house. That's where we'll be. I'm still hiding from my mother because of the bridal veil debacle."

"Thanks for the invite, but I want to keep it low-key. I figured I'd spend the morning at home and maybe meet up with Rose and Em later in the day. They have a great attitude about all this; they're getting Chinese food and going to the movies."

"That's different; it's not a holiday for them," Alice insisted.

"I'd rather it not be a holiday for me, either. Christmas is every bit as overrated as Thanksgiving, possibly more so, as it's almost always followed by an exorbitant credit card bill."

"I don't want to you be alone."

"Being along is my new reality." I paused when I saw Jasper moving toward us. "I may as well get used to it."

"Sorry I kept you waiting. The El was late, as usual." Jasper leaned down and gave Alice a brief kiss before sitting down beside her.

Jazz's eyes moved from Alice's face to mine. "I'm guessing this is more like Unhappy Hour."

I rolled my eyes. "Very funny."

"Seriously, Bella, you look like your house just burned down."

If only he were right. Something like that I might actually recover from.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, all joking gone from his voice.

I downed what was left of my lager. "Nothing that wasn't wrong last week and will still be wrong next week."

He sighed. "So you're planning to go through the rest of your life like this?"

"It's not as though I have much of an alternative."

"You could call Edward," Alice suggested.

"This isn't a conversation I feel I can have with an empty glass in front of me." I hoped Alice would it drop.

"I'm sure the waitress will be right over."

"Why don't we talk about something else while we wait?" _And not ever go back to this topic,_ I added silently.

Alice said nothing, instead shooting me a look that told me she saw through my avoidance tactics.

"I don't feel like waiting, I'll just get a refill at the bar. Do either of you need anything?" I didn't give them a chance to answer before I leapt from my seat.

McGillin's was always packed on Fridays, and tonight was no exception. I couldn't get the bartenders' attention.

"Who does a girl have to blow around here to get a lager?" I muttered to myself.

The guy next to me shouted, "Hey, Mark! Could you grab me a Yuengling?"

Less than a minute later, a glass of beer was before him, which he then placed in front of me.

It had been such a long time since a man bought me a drink. I turned and took a good look at him. Tall and lean, he appeared to be about thirty, with light brown hair and blue eyes. A year ago, he would have been just my type.

I forced myself to relax. I'd left our table because I wanted a distraction. Maybe _this_ was exactly what I needed—to make new memories in old places. Less than a year ago, standing in this very spot, enjoying the attention of attractive men was my normal. I'd get what I needed from flirting and fucking and though I never felt with anyone else the way I'd felt with Edward, surely I'd felt _something_. Feeling it again would prove to me that I was alive, that I could get through this. Now was as good a time as any; moving on sure as hell wasn't going to get easier.

"Thank you. I'm Bella, by the way."

"Peter," he said. He held out his hand to me, and I shook it.

"Well, now that you have your lager and introductions are out of the way, let me just close out my tab, and then we can take care of that other thing."

"Huh?"

"You know." He pointed to the foam at the top of my glass. "Head for head?"

Wait, what? Had he been reading my thoughts?

He began to laugh. "The look on your face just now was priceless."

I relaxed when I remembered what I'd said when I first walked up to the bar.

"You shouldn't laugh. There are a whole lot of men out there who would think buying a woman a beer entitled them to a blow job."

"They give the rest of us a bad name."

"Are you saying you'd decline if I offered?"

I _should_ have recognized my own voice. Propositioning a random stranger in a bar was far more me than declaring my undying love at the beach. Still, my words surprised me.

"Offered what?" he asked, not yet understanding that I was serious. "Oral sex?"

"Sex, oral sex, the gamut."

I wasn't opposed to sucking him off, but really I needed to be fucked. Rough, zipless and unapologetically. In a way that Edward never could.

He let out a small laugh. "How much have you had to drink tonight, Bella?"

His eyes told me he wanted me; his suit told me he knew enough to cover his bases. There were only a handful of professions that still required business attire on Fridays.

"Which law firm are you with?"

"Is the fact I'm a lawyer that obvious?"

I shrugged.

"I'm not sure how to take that. I was going for nice guy who doesn't want to take advantage of a beautiful woman."

"That's too bad. I kind of wanted you to take advantage of me."

This time, he didn't hesitate. "I'll close my tab."

He turned back to the bar, and his hand brushed mine. As we waited, I thought about the emotions I typically felt before anonymous sex—excitement, arousal, power. None of them were present at the moment. My panties weren't damp with anticipation. There was just...nothing.

Then it hit me. Peter's peter could fill my hole, but not my void. Maybe it wasn't Edward's fault. Maybe it was always there, and I'd just never looked far enough within myself to see it.

"Wait, don't." I felt like a tease, and that I should explain. "I'm sorry, I thought I could. I really want to do. I just...well...I broke up with my boyfriend three weeks ago, and I thought something like this would help. I'm just not ready."

"It's okay, Bella. You don't have to explain yourself. I kind of thought you were kidding all along."

"Oh. That almost makes me feel worse."

He took a business card of his pocket and scribbled a phone number on it before handing it to me. I was a little shocked at his forwardness.

"Is this for when I am ready for you to take advantage of me?" I asked.

"It's for when you're ready for a date with absolutely no expectations beyond the pleasure of your company."

I put it in my pocket even though I knew I'd never call him.

"Thank you. I think I should get back to my friends."

Beer in hand, I made my way back to Jasper and Alice.

"I get the point," Jazz said to me when I sat down. "You don't have to hide at the bar. If you're not ready to talk about it, I won't push the issue."

"Thanks, Jazz."

"So he was cute." The excitement in Alice's voice rang false as she angled her head toward where Peter stood at the bar. "I see he gave you his number."

"He did. I'm not ready for that. I think I have some things to work through before I get involved with someone again, even if the relationship is only fleeting."

In that moment, I was reminded why Alice was my best friend. She didn't ask me to elaborate, or delve deeper into myself than I was ready for. She nodded and changed the subject.

I still didn't know what the answer was, but I knew what it wasn't.

I continued to avoid the Art Museum. There were too many memories. I considered the days where I didn't let my ache for Edward consume me successes. The days where I threw myself onto my bed in a heap of tears and loneliness were my failures, despite the fact it was only at those moments when I allowed myself to feel anything at all. Though they made me feel like I was dying, they also reminded me I was still alive. I clung to them with everything I had.

Christmas happened, as did New Year's Day. I didn't notice. The ground began to thaw even if I didn't, and one evening I got a phone call from Emmett telling me Rose was in labor. Alice and I arrived at the hospital just in time to welcome David William McCarty to the world. He was a strapping baby, just like his father had been, with chubby cheeks and a full head of dark, curly hair. I'd never seen Rose look so happy.

"Already a boob man," I joked as Rose fed her son.

"He likes to eat. What can I say?" she smiled.

"How does that work?" Alice asked. "Getting implants didn't affect your ability to nurse?"

Rose and I looked at Alice and laughed hysterically.

"I didn't really get implants, Alice, and even if I had, it wouldn't."

"Huh?" Alice was so confused.

"I'll explain later," I said to Alice. "We should let you get your rest."

"Yes," Alice agreed. "Besides, I have an entire nursery to put together and thirty-six hours to make this happen. I still can't believe you wouldn't let me throw you a baby shower, but who am I to argue with tradition?" She shrugged.

Alice and I started to leave.

"Wait!" Rose yelled. "Mark your calendars for the bris. It will be eight days from today."

"Got it." Alice nodded as she left the room.

Rose grabbed my hand. "Bella, just so you know, Em is inviting Edward. I'm not sure if he will be able to make it, and I will try to let you know one way or another beforehand. Just prepare yourself for the possibility that he will be there."

"Are you expecting a cage fight?" I joked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect. I know how hard this has been for you and I thought you deserved some advanced notice. I understand if you can't handle it and you decide not to come, but I wasn't going to tell Em he couldn't invite Edward. They have gotten extremely close..."

I didn't want to hear about Edward's life without me.

"I appreciate you telling me, Rose, and I will let you know."

I left Rose's hospital room and walked right into Alice, who was blocking the way down the corridor to the elevator.

"What are you doing? The only way out is behind you."

"You don't want to go over there," she insisted.

"Why not?"

"There's a really heinous fake Louis Vuitton bag at the nurse's station."

I rolled my eyes. "Like I'd notice. Alice, please, we have an entire nursery to set up and we don't have much time..."

I stopped arguing with her when I saw him standing in front of the elevator. I'd know the hair anywhere. His back was to me and he was talking to Emmett.

"Let's go, Alice."

We hurried down the hall and squeezed passed Edward and Emmett. I touched Emmett's hand on my way inside the elevator, but I didn't stop to acknowledge them. Edward's eyes met mine briefly as I turned to push the button for the ground floor. They betrayed nothing.

I looked down at my feet while I waited for the doors to close.

What seemed like an eternity later, I was alone with Alice.

"He looks the same," I whispered, more to myself than to Alice.

"What were you expecting?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe that he would look the way I feel?"

"It's been four months, Bella. People get over things. Did you want him to wallow in misery? He's getting on with his life. This was what you wanted, right?"

I sighed. Alice was right. It was exactly what I'd hoped would happen. My mind knew this. My heart would heal eventually.


	4. Goodnight, Sweet Prince

_Originally written for Ms. Kathy's Haiti Compilation. _

I don't own Twilight.

If you're reading _Counterpoint _but have not read _Art After 5_, this contains spoilers.

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_**Goodnight, Sweet Prince**_

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Though the science behind it was complete shit, breaking grief into five stages was a revolutionary concept for its time. Society's willingness to embrace Elizabeth Kübler-Ross' model speaks volumes on human needs, even if her book itself failed to do so. We fear death to such an extent that we are willing to accept theory as truth—anything to shed some light on the unknown.

I want to say it's a cliché, but maybe it only seems that way to me. As a psychiatrist practicing in the age of self-help books and , I'm far more aware than most of the prevalence of pop psychology. I think it's because working in mental health gives me a different perspective, until I hear the anonymous whisper from someone in a pew behind me:

"She seems to be holding it together fairly well. She must still be in denial."

I turn to Edward and roll my eyes discreetly. "How many times have you heard someone utter that phrase since we've been here?"

His eyes narrow like he doesn't want to answer, but he does anyway, because I raised him better than to bullshit me.

"Twenty-seven."

The look on his face tells me he has no idea why I'm asking.

"Amazing. We'll break fifty before we make it to the cemetery."

Edward smiles—it's small, but it's there—and it does more to lift my mood than any of the trite words spoken to me this morning by close friends and complete strangers. I may be putting my husband in the ground this afternoon, but I have not lost him. Our love created the beautiful young man at my side, and everything good about Carlisle lives on in him. Edward's wit, humor, awe-inspiring intelligence and romantic idealism all come from Carlisle, as does his ability to fall in love for a lifetime in less than three seconds.

When Edward met Bella, my sister told me I was insane for supporting their relationship. She judged me based on her own inexperience; her children are much younger. She'll eventually learn that one typically does not dictate to a seventeen-year-old, and certainly not one two months away from moving to college. Edward would have pursued Bella with or without my approval; of this I had no doubt. I recognized the look in his eyes all too well—I'd seen it more times than I could count in the eyes of his father. Edward loved Bella the same way Carlisle loved me.

I knew she would hurt him at some point; first heartbreak is inevitable for all of us. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if my words of comfort when that happened were clouded by my non-support of their relationship. Even after Bella broke it off, I didn't doubt that allowing Edward to become involved with her was the right thing to do. He would have done it anyway.

"Is Bella coming?" I ask.

"Yes."

I nod and stare at the altar. I know they're close again, but I haven't seen her since Thanksgiving two years ago when she broke his heart. I hope she's grown since then. I don't think Edward could survive losing her again without Carlisle to lean on. Edward claims he and Bella are not involved romantically, and though I believe that's true at the moment, I know that it's just a matter of time. I'm all too familiar with the power of that kind of love. Regardless of how little he trusts her, he won't be able to keep their relationship platonic much longer.

The minister begins the service, but I pay no attention to his words. My mind drifts, and I remember my husband.

I feel him push me head first into an open cadaver after he passed out—allegedly legitimately squeamish. When he wakes up, he asks me out to dinner and flashes me a smile I'm told worked on countless women before me. I tell him he'd have better luck asking out the cadaver, as she was unlikely to put up a fight.

I see his smile when I opened the door of my apartment on the night of that date—a smile that only grew wider when I told him his reputation for being a ladies' man preceded him and I agreed to dinner only so he would leave me alone. I remember how confused (and bizarrely disappointed) I'd been that he didn't ask to come inside afterward, that he didn't try to kiss me.

I remember how it felt, after our second date, when he _did_ kiss me. I didn't want him to stop, and I didn't care if I wasn't the kind of woman who'd get involved with guys like him. I invited him back to my apartment anyway, hoping to fuck him out of my system. In my bedroom, I tore at his clothes, thinking angry hate sex with him would probably still be amazing, even if I made him double up on rubbers, just to be safe.

I remember how confused I was that he wouldn't have sex with me, how full of shit I thought he was when he claimed I "meant more to him than that." We talked most of the night before I fell asleep, my face against his bare chest, wondering if this insane behavior was normal for him. I woke to him stroking my hair and kissing my cheek. Later that morning he told me he loved me, at which point I promptly told him to fuck off.

I remember when I realized I was in love with him, after he dropped everything to drive me to see my dying grandfather. Then later, when we stopped by my parents' Gloucester City row home, how he avoided answering any questions about his family, not wanting their affluence to cause my parents discomfort. When we returned to my apartment, I told him I wanted him in my bed and in my life, and that I had no intention of kicking him out the following morning—or ever.

I think about how after the first time we made love, I wondered how I could have been so wrong about him. I see his face on our wedding day and when we found out I was pregnant. I hear his anguished cry after we were unable to revive our firstborn son, and the heartbreak in his voice when he admitted that he wasn't sure he wanted to try to have another child because he didn't think he could live through a loss like that again. Then I see the look on his face the first time he held Edward, filled with love and hope.

The minister stops talking, and Edward looks at me. It's time for him to give the eulogy, but he doesn't want to leave my side. I nod my assent, and he moves toward the podium.

"John Carlisle Cullen IV was many things to many people—a son, a brother, a surgeon, a mentor. Setting and individual needs dictated the kind of relationships he would form with those in his life, and I was no exception. As my father, he was loving, supportive, patient and wise. As my best friend, he was—well—_none_ of those things..."

I close my eyes as Edward speaks, no longer hearing the words he uses to honor Carlisle. For me, Edward's existence is tribute enough. I use his time at the podium for my own silent eulogy.

_Though we're no longer together, we'll never be apart. Sleep in peace, my love. I'll see you soon. _


	5. FGB Counterpoint Extra: Tire Swings and

I don't own _Twilight. _

The Fandom Gives Back

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_This oneshot takes place December of Edward's sophomore year of college, a couple of hours after Bella confesses that she hasn't been with anyone sexually since they broke up. Edward arrives at Rose and Emmett's house to babysit David.  
_

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**Tire Swings and Magic**

**_Counterpoint_ Extra for ecullensgirl**

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"Thank you so much for doing this, Edward." Rose expressed her gratitude exactly one second after she opened her front door. "We were really—well, for lack of a better word—fucked."

Thirty minutes earlier, Emmett called me in a panic. His mother had a stomach flu and was unable to watch David so they could attend the annual holiday party thrown by Rose's law firm. Though neither of them had any real desire to go, Rose insisted staying home would be a "career limiting move."

"It's no problem whatsoever," I assured her. "You know I love the little guy. Where is he?"

"Em's changing him. We didn't want to leave you with a ton of shit on top of everything else."

I laughed. "I fully expected that I'd have to change diapers when I said I'd watch him. It's not a big deal."

Rose looked suddenly panicked. "Do you even know how to–"

"Change diapers?" I interrupted. "Yes. Though in all fairness, I didn't until recently."

"Okay." Rose looked extremely nervous.

"It's going to be fine. Even if David throws me for a loop—which shouldn't happen, by the way, given all the time I spend with him and Emmett—my mom is two minutes away. In addition to raising me, she went to medical school. Between the two of us, we should be able to handle anything."

"It's not that I don't trust you; we've just never left David with anyone who wasn't family. I guess I'm more neurotic than I thought. Anyway, he goes to bed in a hour. Don't let him bring anything into the crib with him except his pacifier. He gets a bottle before bed; the formula and instructions are on the kitchen counter. We won't be out late. The partners at my firm expect everyone to make an appearance at the holiday party. They also invite clients, so it's less about celebrating the season and more about who they can impress."

Emmett appeared with David in his arms. "Because none of their associates put in enough time at work as it is."

"He's bitter," Rose explained.

"I am not bitter," Emmett interjected. "Far from it—I think every Friday night they require Rose to work should include an open bar."

Rose ignored him and addressed me. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"It'll be fine. Really. Go have as much fun as you can have with a room full of lawyers. I've got this under control."

"If you decide you want to invite someone over to keep you company, that's all right." She looked at me expectantly.

Huh?

"You just said that you were nervous leaving David with me because you'd never left him with someone to whom you weren't related, and now you're telling me to invite girls over?"

Emmett snorted. "David likes the ladies."

"Let me be more specific," Rose said, rolling her eyes at Emmett. "If you want to invite Bella over, that's fine with us."

I turned to Emmett. "I guess the word is out now?"

"Not at all," Rose insisted. "Em hasn't told me anything except the fact you and Bella are talking again, which I already knew from Bella."

"What else has Bella told you?" I asked.

"Oh, I see how it is." Rose feigned annoyance. "The idea that Emmett might have told me something you told him in confidence bothers you, but you're not above pestering me for information."

"That depends," I said. "Are you willing to give me any?"

"No, but I would like to reiterate that if you'd like to invite Bella over, she's more than welcome."

"You _really_ don't think I can handle this, do you?"

Both Rose and Emmett began laughing hysterically.

"What?" I asked.

"Like Bella would be any help," Emmett muttered under his breath.

"In Bella's defense," Rose began, "she's never had to care for a baby. Of course she doesn't know how to. Really, I was just suggesting it so you wouldn't be bored once David goes to sleep."

Four minutes later, Rose and Emmett were out the door, and for the first time in my life, I found myself in charge of another human being. Meanwhile, I was beyond preoccupied with thoughts of Bella. It took everything I had to focus completely on David and not let my mind drift to this afternoon's revelation. Bella's self-imposed celibacy during our estrangement was at the forefront of my thoughts, but I couldn't allow myself to get caught up in it when I had a ninth-month-old baby in my care—especially when said nine-month-old baby was strong, enormous, and got into everything.

David was the spitting image of Emmett—curly black hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks. Though Rose was thrilled that David so closely resembled his father, I wondered if Emmett was disappointed that they didn't get a mini-Rose. When I thought of having kids someday, I always hoped they'd look like Bella. Well, except if we had a boy. In that case, I would want him to look like her but be tall like my family. As much as being different sucked for me, I'm sure it would have sucked more if I'd been shorter. I may have been a freak, but from the time I was fifteen on, I at least had physical intimidation in my favor. If Bella and I had a baby and he was mentally like me, I'd want him to look like her but have my height. If we had a girl, I'd want her to look like Bella—a tiny, sweet version of her mother who would accept my unconditional love and let me adore her and give her all the advantages I had that Bella didn't. Specifically, our daughter would have two parents who valued, wanted her, cherished her. She'd grow up feeling entitled to love and happiness and never question her worth, because she had a home in which she was nothing short of worshiped.

I crawled around on the floor with David, and we rolled a ball back and forth until it was time for me to put him to bed. The trust he placed in me was astounding. I'd spent a good amount of time with him, yes, but not on a regular basis. I doubted he could actually remember me. I considered this thought as I put him on the changing table. He started fussing, clearly unhappy about getting his diaper changed. Next to the wipes, there was a stack of tiny fabric cone things. I took the top one off, and stuck it on the edge of my nose, hoping to distract him.

David looked at me like I had two heads until I began to make funny faces at him. He smiled, and I started to change him. The second his diaper was off, he pissed in my face.

"Oh, buddy, so wrong." I pulled off my wet shirt and tossed it aside. "Hasn't your daddy ever told you not to piss in another man's face?"

David giggled at me. He actually _giggled_, and I couldn't be pissed that he pissed. I mean, after all, he wasn't all that different from me—he was just a guy trying to find his way in the world.

"You know," I began, "I pissed in an inappropriate place once—in my roommate's bed. I was in college though, not nursery school. But you don't even go to nursery school yet, do you? You probably don't know what college is." I got the clean diaper on him as quickly as possible, and continued talking to him as I dressed him in his pajamas. "College is the first part of school you'll actually enjoy. You can take the classes you want, not just boring stuff you already know. Anyway, most people live in dorms when they go to college. Actually, some people live in dorms when they go to high school, but I didn't do that because my parents thought I was too socially inexperienced to handle that. Most of the people I know at college went to high schools like that—prep schools—but not me. I don't regret it, though, because that's how I met your Aunt Bella."

Did I actually just say that?

"Not your Aunt Bella like she and I are married, and I'm Uncle Edward and that's your Aunt Bella. She's not my wife. She's not even my girlfriend yet—I mean, anymore. She's your aunt in the sense that she's very good friends with your mommy, and she loves you. I hope you love her, too. That would mean a lot to her, because you're new and innocent and she would never question why you loved her. You being a little guy, she'd take it at face value—that you love her, because she's kind and means well and you have a good time when you're with her. I envy you that, that Aunt Bella would have faith in the validity of your emotions. That your love is real, because you don't know of any other way. The irony there is that it wasn't so long ago that _I _was no different from you. She just didn't trust that, because I'm a big boy, and big boys haven't always treated her the way they should."

"Boy?" David perked up, recognizing at least one of my words.

I pointed to him before pointing to myself. "Yes, boy. We're both boys. High five, my man!" He clapped his hand against mine, and I carried him over to his crib. I placed him inside and handed him his pacifier.

He said something vaguely resembling "night night" before popping his pacifier into his mouth and rolling over onto his stomach. I rubbed his back until he fell asleep with his knees tucked underneath his belly and his butt up in the air.

"I love you, little man. Lots of people love you. Never forget that."

Once David was asleep, I did more than obsess about Bella's admission. I didn't presume to think she'd been saving herself for me—despite her insistence otherwise, I still didn't believe that she loved me like that.

This did not prevent me from calling her, hoping to discuss it further.

"Didn't I just see you two hours ago?" she answered, laughter in her voice.

She was happy—not just in this moment, but in general. It was a stark contrast to the Bella I dated, and I wondered if I'd ever get used to the difference.

"Two hours and forty-two minutes," I corrected her.

I left out the fact that to me, it felt much longer.

"Right. You would know. So it's been two hours and forty-two minutes since we last spoke, and I'm seeing you tomorrow morning. Unless you're calling to cancel on me–"

"Never." I didn't want her to even _think _that.

"Well, you can't miss me; it hasn't been long enough."

She was wrong, of course—totally and utterly wrong. Two hours and forty-two minutes was more than enough time for me to feel her absence and long to see her again. Truth be told, these days I began to ache for her moments after she left my presence, information I took great care to conceal from her, fearful she'd use it to manipulate me.

"I haven't interrupted anything, have I?" I asked.

"Did I not tell you about my hot Friday night plans?"

Two hours and forty-two minutes was apparently long enough to change everything.

"No."

"There's a new cake recipe I wanted to try. I'd just put it into the oven when you called. I can't get too wrapped up, though. It needs to come out in fifty-one minutes."

I was simultaneously relieved and annoyed at myself. Bella hadn't been with anyone in over a year, yet I was so insecure when it came to her, I was ready to believe it could all go to hell in an instant. Maybe because it had in the past, and that history was the single greatest predictor of future events. I pushed my doubt aside, determined to focus on the fact the Bella was back in my life and home on a Friday night—baking.

"You misled me," I teased. "That doesn't sound hot at all."

"That's what you think. The oven is incredibly hot—325 degrees, in fact."

"Yet not at all torrid."

She snorted. "No, not like that. Were you not paying attention this afternoon? I don't _do_ that anymore."

Was I not paying attention? Was she kidding?

"Oh, I was paying attention." So was my ever-possessive cock. The smaller of my two heads wanted to believe sex with me was such a life-altering experience, that I'd forever ruined her for all other men. The head that sat on my shoulders wanted to know the _real_ reason she hadn't been sexually active. "It's actually why I called."

"Really? Just so you know, I don't do phone sex these days, either." Laughing, she muttered under her breath, "Shit. I broke a rule again, didn't it?"

"I'd love to know where these rules are coming from. I don't recall ever issuing an edict forbidding any mention of sex. It would be an exercise in futility for me to do so, given the nature of contemporary society. Everything is about sex. This morning I saw a french-fry commercial about coming."

"Fried food_ can_ be orgasmic."

"True, but this was on CNN. it just goes to show how impossible sex is to avoid."

"You're telling me." She sighed.

"But you _have _avoided sex."

"Doing it, Edward. I haven't _done _it. I still talk about and think about it. I have fantasies, and sometimes I even masturbate..."

I gulped, and adjusted myself in my pants. Please, please, please let her think of me when she masturbates. How awesome would it be if she called her vibrator Edward?

"...I'm normal and healthy, just celibate."

I pushed the mental image of her fucking herself with her vibrator while screaming my name out of my mind and focused on the conversation at hand.

"That's why it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around it; celibacy isn't normal for you."

"You're right. Normal for me is sublimating ecstasy for emotion, for using sex as a means to avoid intimacy. After you and I..." She paused. "Is this all right?"

"What?"

"Talking about us. It's another one of the rules. Add it to the rule about sex–"

"Fuck the rules."

"_You_ can fuck the rules; I'm not letting myself fuck anything."

"Wait, I thought you said you still masturbated?" I couldn't help but tease her.

"My vibrator doesn't count. Anyway, I've realized through therapy that the methods I'd developed to prevent myself from getting hurt were actually causing a great deal of pain. I mean, I didn't need to pay a professional to find out that they'd hurt you. I already knew that, and though I regretted my actions, I had no idea what to do about them. My counselor made me see that although I couldn't change the past, I could modify my current behavior to prevent causing any more damage to myself or others. One of the changes was not to have sex outside of love."

I was floored.

"Not that I'd judge anyone who _did _have sex outside of love, mind you," she added in a hurry. "I don't think it's unhealthy for the average person to have the occasional fling. We all need release you, know?" She let out a nervous laugh. "It's just that in the past, _my _doing so was born out of a bizarre combination of self-loathing and needing to feel wanted—even if it was fleeting and for all the wrong reasons. People don't have one-night stands because they actually desire the other person; they have them because they desire an orgasm. The other party involved is nothing more than a means to an end."

"Was that how you saw me?"

"No. You were always more than that to me. I just wasn't always good at showing that. I'll never be able to fix the past, but I do want you to know that I could never view you that way. Even in the beginning, I could see myself falling hard for you. And it scared me so much—you have no idea. I'd spent four years of my life convincing myself I didn't want that kind of life, that in letting anyone in I was just setting myself up for pain. Then I met you, and you challenged me. And I started to wonder if maybe I could have all that—if I could be loved and wanted in that real kind of way that doesn't go away when boredom sets in. Had I spent my entire life not wanting it, or did I just not believe it existed? There's a difference, you know?"

"Do you believe it exists now?"

"Yes. I learned that from your parents."

I should have known. "They're good for that. They're still every bit as in love now as they were the day they got married."

"Well, marriage still scares me," she admitted.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's completely irrational, I know, but I feel like once a contract is involved—and screw romantic notions, marriage _is_ a contract—people do things because they have to, not because they want to."

"People do that anyway, and divorce is more common now than ever."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that. Like I said, I know it's irrational. But even before I got to know your parents well, I started to think that maybe there was a chance. Things that never mattered before—like whether or not _you_ wanted children—suddenly became monumental."

"I want children."

"I know."

"Do you want children? The last time I asked you, you weren't sure."

"I'm still not sure. The idea terrifies me, but I _think_ I'd like to have children. I mean, it's not a requirement for me. If it never happens, I doubt I'd look back on my life and feel as though I missed out. But if I was with the right person and our relationship was solid enough, I'd probably want to have children. It's just so hard for me to imagine that happening."

The mental image came so quickly that I couldn't stop it—me on my knees in front of Bella, kissing the bare skin of her still-flat stomach, knowing my child was growing inside her.

I wanted to tell her that I _was_ the right person, and that if she were just willing to wait for me to feel like myself again, she could have it all—that I'd happily spend my life giving her she's ever wanted but was afraid to wish for because she never believed it was real. It was a declaration I somehow knew I'd make eventually, but not now and certainly not over the phone.

"I know you were very lonely growing up–"

"So were you," she interrupted me.

"I had my parents; you had no one."

"I had friends. I never sat alone at the lunch table, if that's what you mean."

"Was it all bad? I mean, there must have been some parts of it that were good."

"I loved cooking with my neighbor. When I was little, she'd let me stand beside her and pretend I was doing whatever she was doing, using real bowls and spoons. She was very into using seasonal ingredients in her recipes. My love of food and obsession with supporting local farming comes from her. Oh, and I had a tire swing in the backyard that I loved. Don't you dare call me ghetto, Rich Boy!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"That's because you're jealous. Something tells me _you_ didn't have a tire swing as a kid."

"That would be correct," I confirmed. "I think there's a town ordinance against them or something."

"Why am I not surprised? You're probably only allowed to have wooden swing sets painted or finished in historically accurate colors. Sometimes I wonder how they even let me teach in your town."

"Well, you _do_ show up to work dressed like a Puritan."

"I do not!"

"I can't speak for now, but I know that when I was in high school, you did."

"I know," she admitted. "In those days, I still had something to prove. It was almost like if I showed any skin at all, people would know how promiscuous I was."

"In this day and age, does that even matter?"

"Maybe not for you, but there's still a double standard. Men can get away with that sort of thing; women can't. Now I wear what I want. I don't feel as though I have anything to hide."

There were so many things I wanted to say to her—that I was proud of her, that I couldn't imagine how difficult looking that deeply into herself must have been, that she was brave and strong in a way I'd never had to be. Instead, I said what she'd expect me to say under these circumstances.

"It's time take your cake out of the oven."

"Huh? Oh shit, you're right. Hang on a sec." Forty-six seconds later, she returned. "It came out perfectly, thank you. I'll never understand how you do that."

I laughed. "Because I'm a freak."

"You're brilliant. Does it ever..." She paused.

"No, ask me." It sounded almost like I was begging. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

I wanted more than anything for her to feel like she could talk to me.

"What's it like inside your mind?"

"Do you mean what I am thinking?"

"No, not specific thoughts, though they would be fascinating to hear as well. But you're always counting, right?"

"Not exactly. It's more like the world around me has its own time signature, and there's a metronome in the back of my head. I'm not actively counting, I'm just acutely aware of time. That's always there, but so are the same kinds of thoughts you have. Like, I know it's been fifty-four seconds since you came back from taking your cake out of the oven. I'm also very aware of patterns and angles; I see math and physics where most people just see a building or a tree. I'm thinking about tomorrow, how much I want to see you again already, how much I missed you when you weren't a part of my life. But I'm also thinking how amazing it is that we can talk like this now, have a conversation that's deep and not theoretical. This would have never happened when we were dating."

I left out the music I was composing, and the image of her pregnant with my child, as well as the fact that said image made me hard.

"Huh."

"What do you mean, 'huh'? Were you expecting me to be mentally working on a cure for cancer?"

"Kind of," she admitted, laughing. "No, seriously. I just didn't expect your thoughts to be so similar to mine. I'd tell you I was counting the seconds until tomorrow, but you know very well I'm not capable of doing that the way you are."

"I'm not capable of baking a cake from scratch." I didn't want her to feel like my abilities were any more valuable than hers. "By the way, what kind is it?"

"You'll find out tomorrow. Speaking of, I need to get to work on the icing."

"Fine, I'll let you go. I'd say I was sorry to take up so much of your night, but I'm not."

"I'm not sorry, either," she admitted. "I'm glad you called me. You know you can call me whenever you want, right? Anyway, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bella."

It was just as well. Seven minutes later, Rose and Em arrived home. As I drove back to my parents' house, I wondered if the tree in Bella's tiny back yard was strong enough to support a tire swing. When I came in through the back door, my dad was sitting on the couch.

"How was babysitting?" he asked.

"Fine. David pissed in my face."

"Yeah, well, you certainly nailed me more than a few times. Paybacks are a bitch."

"Thanks, Dad. And on that note, I'm off to shower until the water runs cold." A thought occurred to me after I turned to go upstairs. "Do you know where I could buy a tire?"

"For the Volvo?"

"No, for a swing. I just need one."

"Isn't David a little small for one of those?"

"It's for Bella."

He looked at me quizzically. "I'd ask why, but I don't think I want to know. I'm bringing the truck in to be serviced tomorrow. I'm sure I could buy a tire at the Mercedes dealership. I mean, if you can buy a car there, surely they have loose tires for sale."

"Don't worry about it; I'll look into it. Besides, I want it to be from me. Thanks anyway. Goodnight."

That night, I dreamt of pushing a little girl with huge brown eyes on a tire swing. When she became tired, we went inside where Bella served us slices of a cake she'd made that morning from scratch. As we ate, Bella told me about how our daughter stood at her side and "helped" her, mimicking her every gesture with a wooden spoon and an empty bowl. Our daughter insisted the bowl was actually filled with dreams and magic.

Of course I believed her.

* * *

_Huge thanks to Simone and Amy. _

_Also, to ecullensgirl for her support of Fandom Gives Back and my writing, for giving me this great prompt and allowing me to share the resulting words with the rest of my readers._


	6. Counterpoint Chapter 51 Outtake

I cut this from the final chapter of Counterpoint. Rather than relegate it to recycle bin oblivion, I thought I'd post it for those of you who'd like to read it.

* * *

Counterpoint

Chapter 51 Outtake

* * *

"You know, if you wanted to meet Bella so badly, you could have just asked. You didn't have to accost her in the bathroom."

Kate looked up from her lunch just long enough to roll her eyes at me. "Maybe I wanted to talk to her alone."

"That's kind of an exercise in futility, isn't it? I mean, she tells me everything."

"Just keep telling yourself that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No one tells anyone _everything._" She used the same tone of voice one employs when addressing a child; it infuriated me.

"Drop the condescension, Kate. To hear you just now, you'd think _you_ were a teacher at my high school."

"You need to get over yourself, and since I seem to be the only person in your life with the balls to tell it like it is–"

I could no longer contain my anger. "Excuse me?"

"Your righteous indignation would be cute if you were actually entitled to it, but since you aren't, you need to not interrupt me. I promised you we'd always be friends, right? Well, friends don't let each other fuck up if they can help it—that's why I need to say this to you."

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Continue."

"If you look hard enough for something, eventually, you're going to find it. Why are we even having this conversation?" She looked up as if in thought. "Oh, right. Because you asked Bella what she and I discussed, and she told you. Yet for whatever reason, that wasn't sufficient." She dropped her voice an octave in imitation of mine. "'Bella tells me everything.'"

"She does."

"Exactly whom are you trying to convince of this? I'd take your word for it; that's not the problem. The problem is that you won't take hers, and this is a far greater issue in your relationship than whether or not Bella inadvertently omits insignificant details upon your cross-examination of her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Trust."

"I trust Bella."

"So you say, but let's be real here. If that were the case, you wouldn't be grilling me on what transpired in the ladies' room."

"There's only thing I wanted to know..."

"Fine, but in the future, I'm not going to enable your insecurity."

"Was she upset?"

"Did you ask her if she was upset?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"She claims she wasn't."

Kate's eyes narrowed slightly. "Am I understanding this correctly? You trust her to be honest about what happened, but not how she felt about it?"

"There's a context, and I don't want to get into it. Please?"

She sighed. "I don't know her well enough to be sure, but she didn't seem upset. I mean, we were both a bit emotional, but it wasn't like that."

Maybe Bella told me the truth after all—that she would have told me I was hurting her if I'd lasted any longer.

"Yesterday she finally told her father about us. She made the phone call while I was sitting beside her."

"Then why are we even having this conversation? I mean, what more do you want?"

I knew the answer—I wanted to believe that Bella loved herself as much as I loved her. Bella's self-esteem issues were none of Kate's business, even if I knew she meant well by asking.

"You're right," I conceded. I took a sip of my water, and realized what a douche I was for asking Kate for advice about Bella.


End file.
